


fire and water must have made you their daughter

by Osthrys



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU from the end of Season One, Alternate Universe - Always the Opposite Sex, Always-a-girl!Stiles, Cohabitation, Derek being culturally ignorant, F/M, Fluff & Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Pack Dynamics, Whodunnit, obnoxiously moody werewolves, socially inept and accidentally insensitive Derek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-23
Updated: 2012-06-20
Packaged: 2017-11-05 21:56:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/411419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Osthrys/pseuds/Osthrys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sheriff Stilinksi is attacked one night, and ends up in a coma. Stiles moves to the Hale house for the rest of her senior year, determined to find the person responsible. Derek is awkward and doesn’t know how to handle teenage girls, and Stiles can’t stop thinking that if she had taken that bite, she could have saved her father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own nor have any rights to Teen Wolf or MTV. Nor am I a medical professional, so no, I don’t actually know anything at all about blood loss, comas, poisons, hospital care, etc. There was a lot of googling happening, so please forgive any grievous errors.
> 
> I’m just going to apologize in advance for all the weird tenses happening here. Please bear in mind that the first section (a mini prologue, if you will) is supposed to be weirdly tensed and dialogue-less, as it is meant to be read as a memory. Plus, let's be honest, I just like to mess with things a lot.
> 
> Beta'd by the lovely tobrokenstone, who gets extra thanks for betaing outside her own fandoms so I could post this. Title is from the song ‘Fire and Water’ by Free.

****

It was quick, they said. Wouldn’t have felt a thing.

Stiles knows this is bullshit.

You don’t nearly bleed to death from a stab wound to the back without feeling any pain. She’s seen this happen to Derek, a rogue hunter’s knife jabbing fast into his flesh. She’s watched the blood flow out, heard Derek’s howl. Even with his werewolf pain tolerance, it hurt. Now multiply that by three, and Stiles figures that’s about what her dad must have felt like in the ten minutes before he passed out from blood loss.

He’d promised to be home by midnight. When twelve thirty had rolled by and still no sign of him, Stiles began to seriously worry. This was just not something the Sheriff did. Ever. She’d been phoning his cell and getting no answer, and her anxiety was beginning to escalate. She phoned Scott.

Did you call the station, he’d said.

She hadn’t, but when she did, they didn’t know where he was either. Give him some more time, they’d told her. Maybe he’d gone off for a late dinner somewhere, or stopped to help a driver on the road.  Give it another hour, and call back then, Stiles; you don’t always need to know where he is.

But Stiles being Stiles, this wasn’t nearly good enough for her, so she called Scott back, who in turn called Derek, and together they headed out in Derek’s car to trace the route her father always takes home.

I’m sure he’s fine, Stiles, Scott had said to her, but she was way too jacked up and panicked to listen. By the time they’d found his cruiser pulled up on the side of the road just past the school, she could feel the beginnings of a panic attack setting it. 

They’d all jumped from the car, Stiles racing up to the vehicle to find the driver’s side door hanging open. There were no signs of a struggle, but no signs of her dad either. Derek had walked right past the cruiser and was peering into the dark edge of the woods at the side of the road.

She’d asked if he could sniff him out, but he just growled at her that he wasn’t a blood hound. After a moment, he’d taken off into the woods anyway, Scott and Stiles trying to keep up.

They’d been running for what felt like forever, when Derek pulled up and lowered his stance, snuffling at the air, testing it. Scott looked pale and drawn next to her, nose twitching as he scented their surroundings as well.

What is it, did you find something, she had asked, but the instant Derek opened his mouth, Scott tried to shush him. He was having none of that, and gestured with his arm towards the direction they’d been running. I can smell blood up ahead, he’d practically growled, not even trying to soften the blow. 

Before Scott could grab her to hold her still, she’d taken off running, near blind in the dark and close trees. The forest was laden with the first of fallen leaves, and it was hard enough to keep her balance as it was, but when her foot came in contact with a patch that was slick and wet, she’d instantly gone down. It took her all of five seconds to realize she’d landed in blood. 

Derek and Scott had come up behind her, then passed her, and as Stiles sat there in the bloody undergrowth, she saw her father’s body leaning up against a tree, ashen face lit up by a thin sliver of moonlight through the branches.

She was sure he was dead.

Scott listened for his heartbeat, said it was slow but still there, before whisking out his cell phone, calling for an ambulance. Derek had said that he’d smelled someone else, a stranger, mingled in with her father’s scent, but it was too weak to be able to track properly, especially with the smell of blood permeating the air. Derek had carried him out of the forest while Scott tried to support Stiles, lagging behind the Alpha.

She refused to leave the hospital for three days, Scott and other members of their little ragtag group showing up periodically to offer support. Derek was absent, but that was hardly surprising. 

The doctors said he had slipped into a coma, but they were unsure if it was due to blood loss, or something more, taking tissue and blood samples from the wound and sending them for analysis. The wound in his back was clean and very deep. It had barely missed his kidney. They didn’t know when (Stiles could hear the ‘if’ they weren’t saying) he would wake up.

Scott had wanted her to stay with him once the hospital staff finally urged her to stop sleeping in the waiting room, but she’d refused. Instead, she’d stayed in her empty house, not going to school, just spending each day curled up in her father’s bed, popping Adderall like they were M&Ms. She wouldn’t let anyone in to see her.

She’d spent two weeks at home, visiting her father as much as she could, though she eventually started sleeping in her own bed. She called the station every single day, and every day she got the same answer: Not even a single lead. Despite how many clues one would think they had, there wasn’t a viable suspect. There was hardly any real usable evidence, they’d said, but don’t worry, I’m sure we will catch them soon enough. Stiles was not convinced, and continued to skip school, Scott dropping homework off at her house that she was never going to do.

After three weeks, he’d had enough.

 

\----------

 

“Stiles, you can’t stay here.”

Scott was sitting at her kitchen table, fresh mug of coffee curling up steam from between his hands. He was making that awful frowny face that Stiles hated, and she grimaced, turning to watch her cold eggs get pushed around by her fork. These eggs were _really_ interesting. _Way_ more interesting than Scott at the moment. “I’m fine, Scott. I’m....I’m fine. I want to be here.”

“Stiles, I’m serious! You’re not taking good care of yourself, I can tell. I really don’t think you should be living alone _ever_ , but like, super especially not now.” If he kept looking at her like that, his face was going to get stuck.

“Your face is going to get stuck like that, you know.” Well, at least he couldn’t say she didn’t warn him.

“Stiiiiles!” Scott was a proficiently annoying whiner _before_ he became a werewolf, but now there was a canine-esque quality to it that made Stiles cringe whenever he did it.

She flattened her hands against the table in defeat, a sigh rushing out of her mouth. “Alright, fine. I just...I miss him, and...” So maybe he had a point. The house felt so...empty, and cold, without the Sheriff's presence. Part of her wanted to stay, to keep a hold of what pieces of her father she could while he was so far away from her, but another part of her that was growing larger by the day, was feeling much too lonely. She would never admit it to Scott, but she knew the longer she stayed here, the more intense the loneliness would get, and Stiles was just not cut out for a severe lack of social interaction.

Scott winced, then reached over and gave her hand a quick squeeze. He may not be the brightest kid Stiles knew, but damned if he wasn’t still a good friend. “Yeah, I know, but how do you think he’d take you being like this?”

He was right. She doubted her father would want her to be staying here alone, wallowing around and abusing her medication.  “Where do you expect me to stay, then?”

The smile that had erupted on Scott’s face fell immediately. If she wasn’t feeling so strung out, she would be fascinated by the incredible speed with which he could change expressions. “Well, uh. You can stay with me, obviously. We’ve got that pull out in the living room, and you know my mom wouldn’t mind you--”

Yeah, no, better cut that one off at the head. “No, no way Scott.”

“Why not?” If there was one thing she hated more than his frowny face, it was his petulant _you-have-hurt-my-pride_ face. Werewolves, honestly.

“Your mom is great Scott, you know I love her, but there are so many things wrong with staying with you I can’t even begin. For one, I may end up killing you. Also, forgive me, but I don’t really want to be stuck in a house with you and Allison while you’re in your room doing...things.”

Scott flushed bright red, ducking his eyes from her face. “O-okay, that’s uh, that’s fair I guess, yeah.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “No, I’m not staying with Jackson or Lydia either. That would be all kinds of awkward and weird. And if you even _suggest_ Allison’s, I will throw these eggs in your face. She is lovely, but her family is so, so not. I am not living with a bunch of scary, crazy hunters. Her dad scares me more than _Derek_ , seriously. And don’t even get me _started_ on Mrs. Argent. That lady gives me the wiggins.”

Scott perked right up again (this boy has seriously fluid moods, honestly), and the look in his eyes made her regret opening her mouth. Not that that’s not a common occurrence for her. “Dude, yeah, Derek! You can stay with Derek!”

“What, no, what? Why would you even say that, what?”

“No, hear me out, it’s a great idea!” No, it really, really wasn’t. “He’s got that huge house, with like, a million rooms. You helped him fix it up, so you know it’s all good and stable and shit now. It’s not like he’s using all of them, and it’s big enough that you won’t have to be around each other all the time.”

Stiles stared at him agape. “Okay, that has got to be one of the worst plans you have ever had, and you’ve had some appallingly bad ones in the past. Derek _hates_ me, and even if he does say yes out of some weird sense of obligation to the pack, which, by the way, would be ridiculous, I mean, I’m not even _part_ of the pack, I’m a _human_ , but even if he _does_ , he would still kill me!”

Scott, being totally used to Stiles’ run on sentences by now, just shook his head and grinned. “Shut up, Stiles, you _are_ pack. And Derek doesn’t hate you, he’s just kind of emotionally stunted. Come on, you know this is a _brilliant_ idea.”

Stiles looked at Scott, his flushed face and excited, shining eyes, and knew she had lost. Sometimes, saying no to Scott was just too hard to be worth it. “If he actually does tear my throat out with his teeth, I hope you spend the rest of your life feeling guilty. Also, _you_ get to be the one to ask him.”

Scott beamed at her. “This is gonna be _great_.”

 

\----------

 

In the end, the thought of asking Derek to his face was a bit too intimidating even for Scott (and Stiles wasn’t going to let that one go for a while, that’s for damned sure), so they settled down on Stiles’ couch and used Scott’s phone to text him.

Scott had the phone held out at an angle so Stiles could read what he was typing.

**_hey derek remember how u said we should always help a packmate in need_ **

Barely a minute passed before the phone beeped and flashed, a text from Derek appearing on the screen.

**_I’m not giving you any money._ **

Stiles snorted into her hand, and Scott scowled at the phone. 

**_i dont want any $ why does evry1 always think i want $_ **

“Dude, you ask me for money all the time, it’s a totally reasonable assumption.”

Scott at least looks a little sheepish.

**_I’m not buying you alcohol either._ **

Even Scott had to admit that was a pretty fair guess.

**_no dude its about stiles_ **

**_Don’t call me dude._** And then, another message immediately after, **_What about her._**

Stiles had to admire how even through a text, Derek managed to phrase things as an order instead of a question.

“What should I say to him?” Scott was fiddling with the phone, starting to look a little panicky. Stiles sighed and patted him on the shoulder.

“With Derek, the ripping-off-a-band-aid method is probably your best bet. Just do it.”

He didn’t look too confident, but his thumbs started clacking on the keyboard anyways.

**_im really worried about her being in her house alone. i got her to agree to stay with someone but ur place is the only 1 that works so can she plz stay with u_ **

There were a few different ways Stiles expected Derek to respond. Outright refusal, demanding she suck it up and stay with another pack member, threats of dismemberment and other bodily harm, but she most certainly didn’t expect the text that came only a few minutes later.

**_Alright._ **

 

\----------

 

After clearing it with Derek, Scott insisted she move in the next day. Stiles, being Stiles, had a mini freak out during the night, popped a handful of Adderall, and went straight to the internet for comfort.

She thought of Derek and his default scowl, his red eyes whenever she said something particularly stupid, the length of his canines when he told her to shut up and get out of his house after pack meetings.

She thought of the insane amounts of red meat in his fridge, and the myriad small animal corpses littering his garden after full moons.

She thought about his lack of a television or internet connection. Well, _shit._

Grimacing, she typed _WHAT TO EXPECT WHEN LIVING WITH A WEREWOLF_ in to the Google search bar, and more out of habit than anything else, hit send. And, wow that was a lot of porn and weird role playing sites on her screen right now. Not helpful.

She read a few bullshit articles on lycanthropy to calm herself down, and when she could finally take a deep breath without feeling her heart stutter, she shut down her laptop and crawled in to bed.

When she woke up after a few hours of fitful sleep, it was to Scott hovering and peering down at her. 

She flailed embarrassingly and barely managed to stop herself from propelling backwards off the bed. “Holy god, what the _hell_ Scott, you can’t just--” She would never admit to the noise that came out of her throat. “Jesus what is _with_ you guys, you can’t just break in any time you want, I have a doorbell and a phone and the internet and could you at the very least not _loom_ like that?” Scott was trying to stifle a laugh and she sent him the darkest glare she could muster this early in the morning. “How did you even get in here, dude.”

Scott shrugged nonchalantly and pointed to where her window had been opened, curtains fluttering lightly in the breeze. Figures.

She groaned and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She needed caffeine before she could deal with this. “Is there like, some kind of werewolf handbook wherein it strictly forbids you guys from using doors? Like, are they too human for you? ‘We’re _werewolves_ , and we must always show our amazing agility and prowess by only entering buildings through second story windows’”.

Scott followed behind her towards the kitchen. “I called you a few times but you never answered, so I figured you were asleep. Window seemed the best bet. Derek does it.”

She glowered at him. “Yes, exactly, Derek does it. Everything Derek does ever should be a keen example of what not to do.”

He just shrugged again as she set the kettle to boil. “He’s my Alpha,” he said, as though that totally explained his routine breaking and entering.

Stiles knew when to pick her battles, so she just turned around and slotted some bread into the toaster. Food, food was good. She glanced at the clock, watching the minute hand slot into place. Nine thirty-six in the morning. She never got up this early on a Saturday if she could help it, and with the little sleep she got the night before, she felt her body drooping out of tiredness. This was going to be a long day.

Scott sat down at the table and huffed quietly behind her. “I told Derek we’d be at his house by ten, but you’re not even packed Stiles. You know he’s going to be super pissed.”

As if on cue, there was a beeping sound from the vicinity of Scott’s jeans. He reached down and pulled out his phone, grimacing when he read the text. He held it out for Stiles to see.

**_You better not be late. You know I have work._ **

Derek had only recently gotten a job at a mechanic’s downtown, fixing up cars and old motorcycles for cash. There had been many times when he’d shown up for pack meetings (still on time though, always on time) covered in grease, streaking up his face and into his hair, covering his shirt in black stains. She’d only ever laughed at him that once, after which he glared at her viciously and stripped off the shirt, black smudges having soaked through onto the skin of his chest. That shut her up pretty quickly.

She shrugged at Scott and popped the toast, slathering on butter and jam. She held a piece out to him, and stuck the other in her mouth. She let it hang there, chewing absently, as she filled her mug with the hot water from the kettle. “It’s not like I own a huge amount of stuff. I can come back here when I want to pick things up, so I’ll just throw together some essentials for now and get the rest tomorrow or something.”

Scott shoved the whole slice of toast in his mouth in one go, chewing with his mouth open. He sent Derek a quick, reassuring text, then put the phone back in his pocket. “Okay, well, while you eat that is there anything you want me to pack up for you?”

She swished a mouthful of tea around and nodded. “Yeah,” she said, once she’d swallowed, “You know that red duffle bag I used to use for summer camp?”

“The one built like it was made for Armageddon?”

“Yep, that’s the one. It should be up top in the hall closet upstairs. Just grab it and fill it with books, okay? Bottom two shelves of the bookcase, the rest is just textbooks, which I’m pretty sure I can live without.”

Scott pulled a face at her. “Ugh, Stiles, seriously? You’re going to fill a duffle bag with books?”

She shrugged. “Derek doesn’t have internet _or_ television. I have to do something while I’m there.”

He winced in sympathy, then nodded and headed off towards the stairs. After a beat, she called out, “And get my DVDs from under the desk, too!” She heard him grumble in assent, and she smiled, shaking her head.

She quickly finished her toast, and set down her half drunk cup of tea, wiping excess crumbs from her face. A quick glance at the clock told her they were supposed to be at Derek’s in fifteen minutes. Seeing as it took that long to drive there, that definitely wasn’t happening. He’d just have to deal with it.

Ignoring the fluttering feeling of nervousness in her stomach, she started cataloguing the things she’d need to bring. Her laptop, obviously, and if she forgot her iPod she would cry. Scott was handling entertainment. Clothes, she’d need clothes. Her skateboard would be useless at the Hale estate, with just dirt and gravel and creepy backwoods roads that she was _so_ not skating down alone. Toiletries, probably. She doubted Derek would appreciate her using his shampoo. Or his razor, gross.

Which reminded her that, yeah, if she was going to do this, she was at least going to shower first. She made her way up the stairs and to the bedroom, where Scott was clanging around noisily, trying to fit the last of her books into the bag. She started rifling through her dresser for a clean outfit. “I’m going to take a really quick shower, okay? I smell gross.”

Scott spared her a glance, struggling with a particularly thick paperback. “No you don’t. You just smell like Stiles.”

She rolled her eyes at him, piling clothes into her arms and heading for the doorway. “Yes, thank you mister freaky werewolf.”

After she had showered--water as hot as she could stand and letting it melt the muscles in her shoulders for way longer than was necessary--she stood in front of the mirror and ran a brush through her hair. 

She paused, frowning at her own reflection. She’d always kept her hair short, barely longer than Scott’s, soft and brown, swimming around her ears and down to her jawline. It was feminine enough so that she didn’t look like a boy, but when she was young she still was teased mercilessly about it. She never minded much that people called her a tomboy; she was, she supposed. Still is. It was easier, simpler, that way. Her mother never tried to pressure her to wear dresses, and since her best friend was a boy, it just made sense. Short hair and jeans were the most practical choice when you spent your days playing in the woods and climbing trees.

It never used to matter. She had Scott, and that’s all she really needed. She wasn’t interested in any of the boys at school, so it hardly mattered whether she thought they found her attractive. True, she had always admired Lydia’s casual grace and beauty, her apparent wisdom in the world of fashion, but that just wasn’t who she was, or who she wanted to be.

But then came the whole werewolf thing, and with that came the pack. When you spend so much time around so many incredibly beautiful people, it’s hard not to sometimes feel....inadequate. Even when it was just a simple pack meeting, the other girls would walk into the room being utterly fabulous, stylish outfits and makeup softening their faces. Despite how pointless she thought it to be, she could never help the little twist in her gut (not envy, _definitely_ not envy) that happened whenever they showed up.

Lydia used her beauty like a weapon. Where Allison was casually pretty, like she didn’t even notice how the boys turned their heads to watch her, Lydia took full advantage of the effect she had on men. Especially Jackson. She was sharply intelligent, and knew how to use her looks to get what she wanted. If she wasn’t so mad for Jackson (not that she’d ever admit it, but even Stiles with only perfectly normal human means of deduction could tell) she would probably have a string of broken hearted lovers as long as Derek’s driveway. 

And there was Stiles, short hair, ripped jeans, plaid shirts, and a run off mouth. She wasn’t beautiful, she knew that, but she didn’t think she was wholly unattractive either. It’s just that no one had ever told her one way or another. At least she knew she was smart, though other people tended to forget it when faced with a hyper-active teenage girl with an attention disorder.

And therein was the crux of the problem, really. She was as odd as odd could be, for a small town like Beacon Hills. What did she have that she could possibly offer Derek, that he could benefit from having her live with him? Some mild entertainment, maybe. Something to throw around a bit when he got all Alpha-y.

He was going to eat her alive.

She startled when there was a knock on the door. “Stiles, you seriously have to hurry up here. I got your laptop and stuff off your desk into your backpack, but there is no way I am going through your dresser. We were supposed to be at Derek’s like, five minutes ago. He’s going to _kill me_.”

She rolled her eyes and quickly tugged on the last of her clothing, grabbing an overnight bag from under the sink and stuffing her toiletries inside. “Yeah, yeah, just two seconds, okay?” She stumbled passed him, hauling out another duffel from her closet, and started shoving in clothes. “Did you get my Adderall?”

“Yeah, it’s in the front pocket of your bag.”

“Great, thanks.” She hurriedly grabbed a fistful of underwear, shoved it in the bag and zipped it up.

Scott was watching her strangely. “Stiles...are you sure you’re okay with this? I mean, I’ve been thinking, and well...It _is_ Derek.”

She rolled her eyes at him “A bit late for that now, champ. Thanks ever so much for your worry, but rest assured, my virtue is safe.”

He spluttered, and blushed right up to the tips of his ears. “Tha-that’s not what I meant!”

She chuckled, waving her hand to indicate he should follow her with the biggest bag, walking out of her room and down through the house. “Sure, Scott. But seriously, it’s fine. It really is the best option. Besides, it’s probably about high time my spine got better acquainted with the walls of Derek’s house. God knows mine have taken enough damage over the years when he shows up.”

Scott grumbled at her. “You know he’d never actually hurt you Stiles. You’re pack, but you’re human, he knows that.”

She hmm’d low in her throat, grabbing the keys for the Jeep and walking out the front door. If Scott chose to ignore the implied ‘ _we’ll see_ ’, that was his prerogative. After they’d gotten everything piled in the back seat, she paused, hesitant. Scott opened his mouth but she cut him off with a quick shake of her head. “Just give me a moment. There’s something else I want to get.”

She half walked, half ran, through the door and up the stairs to her bedroom. She stopped at her end table, fingers brushing softly over the top of a picture frame that sat there. She briefly touched her mother and father’s smiling faces, letting her hand ghost down over herself, when she was young. There was no way she was going to leave without this.

_Dad’s still alive,_ she told herself, _he’s still here, he hasn’t left._ She took a deep breath. Be that as it may, it was hardly much of a comfort at the moment, when she was about to move in with Derek Hale. Stiles was pretty sure he wanted to kill her on a regular basis.

Grimacing, she grabbed the frame and left. Even if he did maul her in a fit of wolfy rage, Stiles was relatively certain Scott would avenge her death.

Probably.

 

\----------

 

When Stiles finally pulled up in front of the Hale house, the Camaro was nowhere to be seen. She smirked. “Oh, will you look at that. Guess he left for work already. Shame.”

Scott glowered at her. “He is so not going to be impressed with us. I’m not staying with you until he gets back, you can deal with him on your own.”

She glared mutinously at his back as he got out of the car.

“Oh, hey, check it out,” he said, derailing her from whatever comment she was about to make on his lack of loyalty, “there’s a note taped to the door.”

As always, her curiosity overrode her agitation, and she jumped out to go investigate with Scott. It was on the back of a receipt, written in Derek’s cramped, slanted writing.

**_Scott,_ **

“Why just me? _You’re_ the one supposed to be moving in!”

“And _you’re_ the unreliable Beta that’s supposed to be watching over the fragile little human.”

“Oh, what _ever_.”

**_You’re late. We’ll talk later. Stiles can put her things upstairs in the second bedroom on the left. Help her carry her stuff. If you don’t, I will know._ **

**_Derek_ **

And then, scribbled as small as he could make it at the very bottom, as though the thought had hit just before he taped it up,

**_Stiles living here does not give you a free pass to my house. Hang out elsewhere._ **

Stiles snorted into her hand, watching Scott’s face turn purple. He sent her a look she was sure was meant to intimidate, eyes flashing golden. It really just made him look like an offended puppy, and she laughed a little harder. She reached out and ruffled his hair, watching his eyes fade back to brown. “Chin up, Scott. I’ll protect you from the big bad sourwolf.” He huffed at her and headed back to the Jeep to get her bags.

Still smiling, she opened up the front door and walked inside. She took a look around and sighed. “You know,” she called out to Scott as he made his way back to the house, “He may have fixed the place up well, but his housekeeping skills are pretty lacking.” She walked over and ran her finger along the doorframe leading to the main sitting room. “This would so never pass the white glove test.”

Scott snorted, passing by her and heading for the stairs. “I don’t even know what you mean by that, but honestly Stiles? He’s a dude.”

She scoffed at his back, hitching her bag higher up her shoulder and following him to the second floor landing. “Being a guy is not a proper excuse for living in like, ten inches of perpetual dust. I can’t stand it, and I’m a human. I have no idea how his delicate werewolf nose can take all this. I know it’s a huge house, but it’d only take half an hour tops to run a duster over the place. S’good thing you’re not asthmatic anymore, huh?” She toed at the carpet as they continued to walk. “Is that blood? I’m pretty sure that is blood on the carpet. Why would he get cream carpets if he’s just going to bleed all over them. Cream is not a werewolf friendly colour.”

Scott set her bags down just inside her allotted bedroom, shrugging his shoulders as though to say ‘eh, what can you do?’. “So clean it.”

She grumbled at him. “Not sure he’d like that, to be honest. I could try, but I think maybe I should ask first.”

“When do you ever ask permission for anything.”

Stiles barked out a laugh. “True, true, but in this case, I think I value my life a little more than my spontaneity.” She dropped her things and took a look around the room, assessing. “It’s very....blue.” It really, really was. She’d never been in this room, and was surprised to see it properly, if sparsely, furnished. He really only needed his own bedroom, but she supposed he must have done this one up just in case. With his pack, who knew what could happen, and she found herself immensely grateful that she didn’t have to sleep on the floor. The sheer amount of colour coordination, however, was mildly unsettling. Blue walls, blue bedding, blue carpet, the dresser even had _blue knobs_. She waggled her eyebrows at Scott. “It looks like he bought a ‘little boys’ collection from IKEA or something.”

“He probably did,” Scott said, chuckling low under his breath. And yeah, that’s probably true. She wondered if it was his own little private joke; the male members of his pack really were like little boys, at times. 

She stretched her arms up above her head, feeling Scott watching her. She could practically _sense_ the frown forming on his face. “What now, wolfboy?”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re going to come to school tomorrow, right?”

She shifted uncomfortably, averting her gaze. “Scott...”

“Nuh-uh, no way,” he cut her off with a vehement shake of his head. “you’ve got to come back sometime, and you _know_ Derek isn’t going to let that slide.” She bit back the comment of _he’s not my father_ , because that was a soft spot she didn’t want to think about for now. “I know you’re freaked out about what people are going to say to you, but we’ve got your back,” he continued, looking deadly serious. And she knew he was, because this is what it meant to be _pack_ , even if most times she didn’t really feel much like she was pack at all. She smiled.

“Okay, okay.” She held her hands up in a position of surrender, smiling lopsidedly. “I’ll go. Pretty sure my dad will kill me anyways, if he wakes up to a daughter that’s flunked out her last year.” Scott beamed at her as though she’d just given him the greatest present in the world, and she felt her heart clench a little for this boy, her best friend. She fervently wished that he would never change.

“Great!” He said with renewed gusto. “So I’ll pick you up in the Jeep tomorrow morning?”

She blinked. “What?” _What?_ Who said anything about him driving her baby?

He made a sound suspiciously close to a _tsk_. “ _Stiles_. I told you I’m not staying with you for when Derek gets back. I promised Allison I’d have lunch with her parents.” He grimaced a little, and Stiles sympathized. “You drove us here, but I’ve got to head out like, now, and you need to stay here and unpack and stuff. I’ll just take the Jeep for now and then you can drop me off after school tomorrow and take it back here.”

She glowered darkly, but he had a point. She dug into her pocket and tossed him the keys. “ _Fine._ But you break it, you buy it, buddy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, used to Stiles’ over protectiveness. “I’ll drive like, 40 the whole way there, check every blind spot, yadda yadda.”

“You _better_.” She paused, huffed, then relented, letting her face relax in a smile. “Thanks for all your help, Scott.”

He smiled back and reached out to ruffle her hair, but she dodged him, grinning. “Text me later, okay? Let me know how it goes down.”

She nodded, waved, and watched him leave. She took a moment to listen to his footsteps down the stairs, waiting for the rev of the engine. When she heard him pull out and take off, she crossed the room and bounced face down onto the bed, stretching out on the mattress. She knew she should get up, get settled and unpack her things, but at the moment she was so tired, and the bed was so soft.

Rolling to her side, she curled up and let her head push down into the pillow, sighing softly. In a few hours, Derek would be home and maybe all hell would break loose, but for now, for now all she wanted was to close her eyes and forget about everything for a little while.

She loved the men and women on the force like an extended family, but she knew she couldn’t leave this to them. She’d find him, she’d find the bastard that hurt her father, and she would _show_ him what it meant to mess with a Stilinski. She would tear him apart, and if she really was a member of this pack, then Derek would help her. Though perhaps morbid, and a tad unhealthy, the thought was comforting, and she let her breathing slow and even out in to sleep.

She didn’t dream.

 

\----------

 

For the second time that day, she awoke to a werewolf standing over her. She was beginning to sense a trend. She opened her mouth, intent on shouting _Derek!_ at the dark shape leaning over her (because who else would it be, really) but she wasn’t entirely certain there were any actual syllables in the noise that came out.

“Good,” he said, and yep, that was Derek, “you’re awake.”

She sucked in a lungful of air, trying to calm her heart, knowing he could hear the erratic beat. “Do you people really have to do that? Can’t you just like, give me a shake or something, like a normal person? One of these days I’m going to have a heart attack. Or an _aneurysm._ ”

Derek leveled her with a blank stare. “What do you mean, ‘you people’?” He asked, monotone, and for once she kept quiet, unsure if that had been a joke or not. It was practically impossible to tell with Derek. He continued on, regardless. “You’re too young to have a heart attack.”

“I _know_ ,” she moaned piteously, “that’s what makes it all the more tragic. Taken at such a young age, especially when it could have been so easily avoided.”

Choosing to ignore her (typical), he turned around, headed for the door. “I brought pizza. You should eat.” He paused in the doorway, giving her his _Alpha_ look. “After, we need to lay down some ground rules.”

She scrambled out of the bed, flailing a bit over her own limbs. “Ground rules, gotcha. It’s your house, after all, it’s not like I live here. I mean, usually. Before. Well, I won’t be living here forever, though, so rules, right, gotta set them. Made to be followed, and all that. Under pain of death, right? Probably. Or maiming. Pain of maiming.” She swore she could see the vein in his temple twitch, and she snapped her mouth shut. “Pizza!” She blurted, and took off past him, through the doorway and down the stairs.

The minute she entered the kitchen, the smell of the food hit her and she grinned. What with her dad’s cholesterol, pizza was a pretty rare occurrence in the Stilinski household, so it was always a treat when she got to have it. She opened the box on the table, and of _course_ he’d gotten the meat lover’s kind, extra _extra_ bacon. It smelled _awesome_. She nabbed a piece straight from the box, holding it in her hands and taking a bite. Derek walked passed her, glaring, before he reached up to the cupboards and brought out two plates. He handed one to her, and she raised an eyebrow, but took it without comment. So the wolf had table manners, who knew.

“Slow down, Stiles.” Did he always have to _growl_ everything? “It’s not going anywhere.”

“Yes, yes it is,” she replied, swallowing. “It’s going _into my mouth_.”

He grumbled but said nothing in reply, loading his plate with a couple slices and sitting down. Reluctantly, she sat down as well. As she ate, she felt her leg start to jitter, thumping up and down against the underside of the table, shaking everything slightly. She couldn’t help it, it was a nervous tick that she’d developed at a young age. Her mother used to call her Thumper, which Stiles does not plan on telling anyone, _ever_. After a few minutes of eating in silence, her tension grew, and so did the rate at which her leg was going. Derek was scowling at her, but he didn’t say a thing until the vibrations managed to knock over the salt shaker.

“Is that necessary?” He snapped, and she gulped. 

She raised her hands in the air, slice of pizza and all. “I can’t help it! I’m just a naturally twitchy person.”

“Well _stop_ it.” His lip curled slightly in a snarl, but she’d be damned if she let on just how much he managed to intimidate her. “You don’t need to be so nervous.”

She laughed, resisting the urge to wince at how shaky it sounded. “Nervous, who’s nervous? Not me, nope, no way, not nervous at all. Totally cool and collected. I am a beacon of calm.”

“ _Stiles_ ,” Derek set the slice of pizza in his hand back down on his plate. He sighed heavily, his expression leveling. “I don’t need to hear your heartbeat to know that’s a lie. I’m not going to eat you.” She opened her mouth to reply, but he gave her a _look_ and she stopped. “Listen. Here’s how it’s going to be.” He flattened his palms on the table, and she drew a deep breath, calming down. “You do not make a lot of noise. You do not leave mess around the house. Under no circumstances do you enter my bedroom, or the basement. You respect my privacy, and my authority as the Alpha.” He paused, and an odd look flitted across his face, gone too fast for her to catch what it meant. “And if you go out, you _let me know_. Leave a note, text me, something.”

She wanted to argue, wanted to tell him that he wasn’t her keeper, she was eighteen, she could do what she wanted. Her sense of self preservation won out however, and since he wasn’t telling her she couldn’t go out at all, she let it go. Besides, having someone like Derek know where she was at all times was a pretty reassuring thought, especially after what had happened to her father. She could understand his caution, and she felt her annoyance slip away in the wake of that realization. Derek was _worried_. About _her._ She could feel the mood around them shift, coiling in to something she didn’t have a name for, and she wondered if Derek could sense her unease.

She breathed in deep, held it, then let it release slowly, trying desperately not to word vomit everywhere. She knew it wasn’t going to be much use though, when it came to her, so instead she shoved a huge bite of pizza in her mouth so she couldn’t talk. Derek scowled at her as she chewed, and she felt the tension in the air ease and dissipate, the moment over.

“I figured you, of all people, would have the worst eating habits _ever_. I mean, I’ve seen your fridge.” She said around her mouthful, resisting the urge to smirk at the disgusted face he was giving her.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She waved a hand at him, finally managing to swallow. “Well, you know, you’re a _werewolf_. Aren’t wolves supposed to be all, rip things to shreds with their teeth, ask dietary questions later?”

His face scrunched up in distaste, and he took a very deliberately neat bite from his slice. “For one, wolves are actually very clean eaters. Two, I’m not a teenage boy, I know how to eat without it being like a contest.”

She snorted derisively, a little offended. Did seriously no one notice that she was a girl? “Neither am I, you know.”

He cocked an eyebrow and said simply, “Scott.” Which, yeah, that was pretty fair, actually. One of the important people in her life _is_ a teenage boy, and when you spend as much time with Scott as she does, it’s a bit hard not to pick up his habits. Even his more appalling ones.

She gave him a shrug in return, and since Stiles continued to eat just as messily as before, the rest of the meal was spent in relative silence. By the time Derek came around the table, collecting dishes and putting them in the sink, she was feeling decidedly lethargic, and a lot less nervous than she was before. Derek hadn’t yelled at her yet, which she took to be a good sign. The lack of being slammed into walls was a definite bonus as well. In fact, considering Derek’s usual behaviour, the evening had been downright pleasant so far. She hoped this would set a trend. 

As she got up and stretched, Derek turned around to her, leaning against the sink. “So,” he said, and she tried very hard not to let him see that he’d startled her, “Scott tells me you’ve not been keeping up with your assignments.”

She gaped at him, arms hanging loose at her sides. “I--what? Why would he tell you that?”

His expression stayed suspiciously flat. “Because he’s worried. Not going to school is one thing, but you shouldn’t have let your work fall to the wayside.”

She scowled and crossed her arms. “What do _you_ care?”

And there was that damn eyebrow again, cocked high on his forehead, condescending. “I don’t,” he said, and she felt herself flush, whether from embarrassment or anger she couldn’t tell. “But remember that your actions reflect on the rest of the pack. Besides, I’m tired of hearing Scott whine about it. You should get some done tonight.” He turned away from her, a clear dismissal.

She glared daggers at his back, not sure if she should be furious or pleased at his concern. Mostly she was just confused, unsure of what image he was trying to present here. Was he trying to fill the roll of her absent father, or was he simply trying to assert himself as Alpha? Disturbed and freaked out by the first option, she chose to go with the second and just ignore all else. “Fine,” she replied, soft and unsure, turning around and leaving the room before he could say anything else. She didn’t want to be around him anymore.

What a way to end the evening.

She trudged up to her new bedroom, frowning at all the bags laying around. There was no way she was going to unpack all of this right now. Grumbling, she hauled out her laptop and set it on her end table, finding an outlet and plugging it in. It wasn’t until she’d opened it up and entered her password that she remembered the distinct lack of an internet connection. She was really going to have to talk to Derek about that. How does he even survive, anyways? She wondered how much she’d have to nag him until he caved and got a connection. A television couldn’t hurt either. It would certainly make those ‘pack bonding sessions’ a lot easier then everyone piling in to Scott’s living room and fighting for the couch. There’s so much _space_ here, and it’s just going to waste. Derek has a _thing_ about the pack being in his house, not that she could really blame him, but she was a little tired of having all the meetings in the woods. Especially during the winter. Standing in a foot of snow for four hours was _not fun_ for the human members of the pack, werewolves be damned. Maybe if she pestered him enough she could get him to relent...Well, that or he’d kill her, but that was always kind of an issue, so whatever.

She sighed and pulled out her phone, thanking every deity she could think of that at least the cell reception here was good. She’d started to punch in Scott’s number until the thought hit her that Derek would probably be able to hear every word she said, so she decided to go the texting route instead.

**_Haven’t been eaten yet_** , she typed, **_How’d lunch go? Also, thanks for ratting me out to Derek, jerk. I’ve got him telling me to do my homework and being all growly and shit._**

Scott replied less than a minute later. **_Hes always growly. lunch was fine there was pie. sorry but knew u wouldnt listen 2 me & u rly need 2 do it danny is pissed_**

_Shit_ , she thought, cringing. She’d forgotten all about her poor lab partner. The rest of her missed work only affected her, but she really didn’t want to bring Danny’s grade down too. She _liked_ Danny. She scrolled through her contacts list until she found his number, and after a moment’s hesitation, sent him a text as well.

**_Hey my dashingly handsome lab partner who is also incredibly talented and kind hearted! I’m terribly sorry for skipping out on you these past few weeks. Do you think you could find it in your heart to forgive me? And also help me get caught up? And not, you know, kill me?_ **

Longest text ever, but hopefully if she buttered him up enough, he wouldn’t be quite so angry at her.She’d definitely need his help if she wanted to get back on track. Maybe she could convince him to help her with her other subjects too. She knew Lydia or Allison would be willing to offer assistance, but she couldn’t help but feel a little uncomfortable with the prospect. Besides, Danny was a good student, and maybe she could even wheedle some dirt on Jackson out of him. Blackmail material was always excellent.

She startled a little when her phone flashed twice in a row, feeling ridiculous for jumping when she’d known a text was coming. Really, did she have to be so skittish all the time?  There was a message from both Scott and Danny, so she checked Scott’s first.

**_ur not mad r u cuz im rly sorry if u are_ **

She rolled her eyes and sent him a message to reassure him that no, she wasn’t mad, and she would see him tomorrow morning. Danny’s message was a lot longer, and (thankfully) a lot more grammatically correct.

**_Stiles, you’re an idiot. You haven’t missed too much, we’re not even half way through term yet. There is a Chem project coming up soon though, so if you want I can come over to your place sometime this week and I can help you. Tuesday after lacrosse practice would be best. Let me know._ **

She beamed. Danny was _awesome._ She made a note to herself to appreciate him more in the future. She sent him a quick text back, thanking him profusely and confirming the time, before she set an alarm on her phone and placed it on her bedside table.

She contemplated watching a movie or something on her laptop, but even despite her nap earlier she could feel sleep starting to weigh her down. Knowing tomorrow would be a long day, she dug some pajamas out of her duffle and got changed, before shutting off the light and crawling in under the covers. She lay still, listening to the sounds of Derek clanging dishes around downstairs. She laughed softly at the thought of Derek _doing dishes_ , being all domestic and normal. She smiled into her pillow, and let sleep claim her.

 

\----------

 

Her alarm went off at 7AM sharp, and she grumbled as she shut it off, eyes opening and blinking blearily at her surroundings. She wanted nothing more than to just snuggle in to the warm blankets and go back to sleep, but she knew that if she did there would be hell to pay. Her stomach seemed to agree, if the gurgling sound was anything to go by.

Yawning expansively, she stumbled out of bed and headed towards the kitchen, intent on finding some cereal or toast or something to eat before she showered. When she entered through the doorway, Derek was already at the table, sipping a cup of coffee and eating what looked like oatmeal out of a bowl. He looked fresh and wide awake, and _of course_ he was a morning person. She scowled at him grumpily, but he didn’t direct his attention away from his food, so it was lost on him completely. 

“There’s fresh coffee in the pot,” He said, and his voice held no evidence of sleep at all. He must have been up for a while. “If you want to take a shower before school, there’s a bathroom two doors to the right from your room. If you get water on the floor, clean it up.” She grunted her assent and headed straight to the pot as he continued. “I made enough for you too. Eat it.”

She looked over at the stove, and sure enough, there was some oatmeal sitting in a pot. It looked homemade, but she’d never _had_ homemade oatmeal so she couldn’t be sure. Besides, she highly doubted Derek would be the type of person to make his own porridge. She mumbled her thanks, still too tired to form a coherent response. She was shocked that he had been so thoughtful, but she didn’t want to say that lest it set him off. The last thing she wanted to deal with this early in the morning was a pissed off werewolf.

She doled some out into a bowl, before grabbing a spoon and a mug of coffee, and sat down at the table across from Derek. He continued to ignore her, but when she put the first spoonful in her mouth and made a startled sound of pleasure, he looked up, both eyebrows raised.

“Holy _shit_ ,” she said after she’d swallowed, “this is _amazing_ ** _._** ”

He made a sound of thanks low in his throat, before he turned back to his own bowl. “I’m working late tonight, so don’t expect me back until seven o’clock or so.”

She nodded absently, secretly pleased that he was willing to tell her his own plans and whereabouts. Turnabout is fair play, after all. “Do you want me to make something to eat for both of us? I know how to cook, someone had to in my house, and my dad--” She paused, throat closing a little and honestly, this is ridiculous, she needs to be able to talk about him to someone, _anyone_. But because Stiles likes to pick her moments, she took a sip of coffee instead of finishing her sentence.

Derek, to his credit, merely shook his head at her. “No, it’s alright. I’ll make something for myself when I get back.” She nodded, finishing the last of her food and bringing the dishes to the sink. “Do you need me to drive you to school?” He asked, and she felt herself flushing, oddly touched that he would ask.

“Ah, no,” she stammered, and she really, desperately hoped he couldn’t like, _smell_ the blood rushing to her face, or something. “Scott’s picking me up with the Jeep.”

“You let him take your Jeep?”

She snorted, rinsing her bowl out under the tap. “Only for the night. It was just easiest. Besides, I think he wanted to keep tabs on me, make sure I actually go, that sort of thing.”

She turned and watched him nod his head, still focused on his food. “I would have made you, regardless.”

She didn’t have the energy to be offended, so instead she simply grumbled at him, before thanking him for the meal once more and heading back up the stairs. Scott was due in forty minutes, so she’d better hurry up. She didn’t want to deal with his whining if they were late.

She grabbed her bag of toiletries and a bathrobe from her room before she headed to the shower. She’d only ever been in the bathroom downstairs, which was nice but plain, so when she locked the door behind her and looked around, she couldn’t help but be impressed. Everything was in soft browns and creams, the sink a soft honey coloured stone. It was tasteful, even elegant, and she strongly suspected this was another ‘set’ that he’d picked up somewhere. It looked right out of a magazine and, in all honesty, it most likely was. She doubted Derek had any real design sense.

The only thing out of place was the large antique bathtub that he’d converted into a bath and shower ensemble. It looked quite old, and she thought that it was probably an original piece from the house, from before the fire. It had clawed feet in the shape of wolf paws, which was _hilarious_ and pretty much confirmed that it was a Hale family leftover. 

She grinned and slid open the curtain, setting her bath things on the wall rack beside Derek’s own. She placed her toothbrush in the holder beside his and stared at it, a weird feeling coming over her. This was all so surreal. Part of her wanted to be confused at the fact that Derek used a toothbrush at all, but really, what had she thought? It made sense that he would, he was still a human after all, minus all the _extra_ bits, and being a werewolf was no excuse to forget all about common hygiene practices. The thought had just never crossed her mind that Derek could be so... _normal_. She’d always thought of him as separate from other people, _all_ people really, just this wild, dangerous thing living in a big house in the woods, leading around an unruly pack of teenagers. 

She’d known him for two years, and still had trouble thinking of him as a _person_.

She sighed, rubbing her hand over her face, and got back to the business of getting ready for school, willing herself not to think about any more sourwolves for the remainder of the morning. If she ended up opening up and sniffing his shampoo and body wash, thinking about how they smelled like forest and earth and _Derek_ , well, there was no one else there to call her on it.

 

\----------

 

By the time the Jeep finally pulled up in front of the house, she was dressed and ready to go, Derek long since gone. She was grateful that he had left before she could run into him again and be forced to say goodbye. The thought of seeing him off to work was a little too _domestic_ for her liking, thank you, and it did weird things to her stomach just contemplating it, which she didn’t want to think about, like, ever.

She slung her bag up over her shoulder and toed on her sneakers. It was still early enough that they didn’t need to rush, but she’d always liked to be at school at least a half hour before classes start. She headed outside, leaving the door unlocked (Derek never locked it, and this was Beacon Hills, everyone was way too scared of the Hale house and surviving member to ever even _consider_ robbing the place).

She waved cheerfully at Scott and climbed into the passenger side, the nervousness settling in her stomach enough for her to let Scott keep his spot at the wheel for now. 

He grinned at her, taking the Jeep out of park and heading down the long drive towards the road. “Morning! Glad to be going back?”

She snorted. “Hardly. I can’t say I’m particularly excited for the staring and the questions and the piles of assignments. I mean, honestly, nothing happens in Beacon Hills, well not since the whole Peter thing anyway, and you can’t tell me that dad and I haven’t been the main source of gossip. I _know_ those vultures at school, man. They’re going to be all over me like a carcass in the sun.”

Scott wrinkled his nose at her. “That’s gross,” he said, and she rolled her eyes. “It’s not going to be that bad, people haven’t really talked about it, not after the first week.”

She sighed and rubbed a hand over her face. “Ah, how fickle the lives of teenagers. Doesn’t matter though, it’s just going to ratchet up again the instant they see I’m back, and you know it. Remember when Lydia first started school again after she got out of the hospital?”

“Yeah, but she’s _Lydia_.”

“True, true, and while she’s the queen bee and is clearly due more attention than me, that _was_ tacked on the end of a whole lot of murders and shit, so her response was probably a little muted, which is a scary, scary thought. Things have been ridiculously calm the last couple years, their nasty little minds are going to latch on to the first sign of trouble in sight. _Vultures_ , Scott.”

He shook his head, turning on to the main service road. “I’ve got your back, no matter what, but I swear it won’t be that bad, Stiles.”

She fervently hoped he was right.

 

\-----------

 

By the time second period had rolled around, it was abundantly clear that he wasn’t. 

The stares she could handle well enough, even if it was pretty uncomfortable suddenly being so _noticed_ when she was never much more than a blip on the radar to most of these people before. What really bothered her was the whispers. She would have preferred it if people were pestering her and asking questions, because then at least she could know what they were saying. As it was, she couldn’t decide if she was glad for her lack of werewolf hearing or not.

She saw two boys watching her in the back, one leaning in to say something to the other, and the resulting cringe on Scott’s face had her feeling pretty glad after all. Scott opened his mouth, either to apologize needlessly or tell her what was said, but she shook her head at him. “Don’t bother, I don’t want to know.”

He just nodded, and she spent the rest of the period and the next studiously trying to ignore everyone around her. Scott waited with her when Mr. Harris held her back before lunch, giving her a quick catch-up talk and an accompanying armload of notes, which she hastily shoved in her bag. Afterwards, they made their way to the cafeteria, and she refused to acknowledge the momentary hush that fell when she entered the doors. She sat down with the rest of the pack, while Scott went to grab their lunches.

Allison leaned over and placed her hand comfortingly on Stiles’ arm. “Hey,” she said, softly, “long time no see. How are you holding up?”

She shrugged. “I’m alright. Could be better, but well, you know.”

Allison winced in sympathy. “I can imagine. It must suck having everyone so focused on you. I’ve heard some of the things they’re saying.” The archer sighed, rubbing at Stiles’ arm gently, giving her a small smile. “I’m just glad to see you back. I’ve been worried, and Scott’s been practically beside himself.”

Stiles laughed, and was about to say something in return, when Jackson cut her off. “I hear you’re living with Derek now.”

Lydia, who had previously been ignoring all and sundry in order to apply her lip gloss, whipped around and leveled Stiles with a stare. “ _What_?” The intensity in her eyes was freaking Stiles out, and she raised her hands in a placating gesture, just as Scott came back, setting her tray down in front of her and taking his seat.

“I, uh, yeah, I am, I guess.” Stiles said, eyes wide.

Lydia made a noise in the back of her throat, and she looked at Stiles askance. “Why hasn’t anyone told me about this? This is the best news I’ve heard in _ages_. You’ve got to tell me everything. Have you seen his bedroom? What’s he been like?” She looked devilishly excited, and Stiles could feel a creeping sense of dread settle in her stomach.

“Um, well, I just sort of moved in yesterday? I’m not allowed in his bedroom. Or the basement, I guess. He’s been, uh...nice? Mostly? He made me breakfast.”

There was silence at the table for a second, before Jackson cocked an eyebrow and spoke up. “ _Derek_ made you breakfast? Bullshit.”

“What, no. I’m serious! He’s been really cool about it.”

Lydia had this calculating look on her face that made Stiles distinctly uncomfortable. “Has he now?” She drawled, then went back to her makeup, making Stiles’ worry increase tenfold. She looked like she was _plotting_ , and a plotting Lydia was never a good thing.

Jackson snorted and went back to his food, while Allison patted her once more on the arm and Scott grimaced at her in sympathy. She stared down at her mashed potatoes, feeling like she had just missed something vitally important.

 

\----------

 

Once she had dropped Scott off after school, she could feel the exhaustion trying to climb its way up her spine and through her limbs. Regular school days were taxing enough, but today was certainly one for the books. She didn’t even want to think about all the readings and reports she had to get done for next week. At least it would keep her busy. 

She pulled up in front of the Hale house and parked, strolling inside and dropping her bag in the foyer, toeing off her shoes. Her stomach rumbled audibly, reminding her that she’d barely eaten anything at lunch. Sighing, she made her way to the kitchen, intent on finding something to eat that wasn’t steak or bunny rabbit.

The moment she opened the fridge, she knew she was out of luck. Not much had changed since the last time she’d braved Derek’s wrath and poked her nose inside. There was a package of ground beef, several steaks, what looked like half of a turkey, and some sort of suspicious looking sausages, all piled up high on the top shelf. There was BBQ sauce and half a bottle of ketchup in the side door, and a rather sad looking orange on the bottom shelf that had seen better days. The same tiny carton of milk that had been on the counter that morning sat wedged between two packets of meat, which was pretty disgusting, actually.

The cupboards weren’t much better, a few boxes of cereal, some sugar, and half a package of spaghetti noodles. What did Derek even _eat_? He might be perfectly happy living off of one food group, but Stiles most assuredly was not, and in a fit of disgust she grabbed her wallet from her bag and the keys to the Jeep, determined to pay Beacon Hills Grocers a visit. If Derek had an issue with her stocking his kitchen, he could shove it. She was doing the wolf a favour.

After a short drive, she stopped in front of the store and headed inside, grabbing a cart and shoving things in it, aisle by aisle. Derek was going to see the joy of vegetables if it killed her (which it very well might, knowing the Alpha). She tried to choose less from impulse and more from necessity, but Stiles was Stiles, so by the end of it there was a seriously huge amount of grocery bags in the back of the Jeep. 

When she finally got back to the house, she immediately got down to putting everything away, relocating most of the meat to the freezer and smirking in satisfaction. Once she was finally finished, it had just reached half past six, and since Derek would be getting home shortly, she figured she should just wait until after he’d had his own meal before she made hers. She seriously doubted he’d be particularly accommodating if she was taking up all the kitchen space when he got home.

Sighing, she trudged up the stairs to her room, spreading notebooks and papers out across the cheap desk; if she was going to be waiting, she may as well be productive. After about ten minutes of reading the same paragraph in her economics notes, however, she gave up with an aggravated sigh and shoved everything on her desk to a heap on the floor. She was too _tired_ to do this right now.

She crawled over to the bed and turned on her laptop, starting up some _Star Trek_ and upping the volume. She’d made it half way through an episode--Kirk and Spock being _ridiculous_ \--when she heard the front door close. She turned the volume down instinctively, staying alert in case he decided to flip out about the sudden plethora of food in his kitchen.

After a little while, she could hear the sounds of Derek cooking, pots and things clanging against each other, and she let herself relax. If he hadn’t said anything yet, she doubted he would. Maybe his sense of werewolf pride would keep him from mentioning the fact that he had to have a teenage girl do his grocery shopping for him.

She made it through the rest of the episode and part way through the next, when the scent hit her. Whatever it was that Derek was cooking, it smelled _delicious_. She waited it out five more minutes, before she gave up and shut her laptop in frustration, determined to cajole Derek in to letting her have some of whatever it was. 

She tried to walk casually through the kitchen, determined not to let her heart betray her nerves, and came up behind the wolf where he was stirring something on the stove. She peered around him and took a deep breath. There was some seriously amazing looking stir-fry happening, filled with vegetables that she had bought. Her eyes opened wide in surprise, and Derek turned his head to glare at her.

“Holy shit, you really _can_ cook? Well yeah, no, I guess that makes sense. Life of a bachelor and all that. You can only eat so many burgers and curly fries before you would lose that intimidating physique. And what would that be like anyway, a chubby werewolf? Is that even possible? Are like, the chubby ones on the bottom of the hierarchy here, can there be a chubby Alpha?” She rushed out, licking her lips eagerly.

“Stiles,” He growled, making her name a command. “ _Shut up_.”

She gave a little anxious laugh and jerked away unsteadily. And then, because she clearly has a deathwish, asked “Can I have some?”

Derek was silent for a moment, not looking at her, as he stirred the contents of the pan. “It’s just a stir-fry, it’s not anything complicated.”

Stiles snorted, earning another quick glare. “The only thing I care about is what it tastes like.” She grinned at him, all teeth, though he didn’t turn to see it.

He grumbled something, too quiet for her to hear, and gave one particularly vicious stir. “Go set the table,” he said, and though he kept his face blank, she could hear the note of exasperation in his voice. She beamed; the victory was so worth it.

Once the food was laden on the plates and cutlery handed out, the both of them settled at the table, Stiles digging in and Derek eating carefully. She’d barely had two mouthfuls, before Stiles made a noise low in her throat, moaning around her fork. She’d be embarrassed about how utterly pornographic that sounded if she wasn’t so focused on _foodfoodfood_. After a beat she felt the weight of Derek’s gaze and looked up to see him watching her with a dark expression she couldn’t place. “What?” she asked, once she’d swallowed.

He shook his head slightly, then glanced away. “How was school?”

She felt her mood darken a fraction and turned back to her plate. “Fine, great, totally normal.”

“ _Stiles_ ,” he said, a warning, and oh right, werewolves and lying don’t mix.

She shrugged, focusing on her food for a few moments. “It was about what I expected,” she offered, once she’d cleaned off half her plate. “A lot of staring, a lot of mumbling. It’s high school Derek, and teenagers are _assholes_. I should know, I am one.” She could feel herself pouting, but she deserved to pout a little right now. “What, did you think I’d get a welcome back parade?”

Derek started to growl, low and threatening, and she jerked in her seat, gaze flying up in time to catch his eyes flashing red. “Uh--” she started, but he cut her off, “If anyone is giving you trouble, you _tell me_.”

He still had this low level growling thing going on, and she shifted awkwardly in her seat, gauging possible exits. “What are you, uh...What would you do, rough them up a bit and tell them to back off or else? Flash your teeth and threaten to chomp out their kidneys?”

“Yes,” he said, and Stiles laughed, until she realized that he was still just sitting there, utterly stone faced. And _oh_ , okay, he’s not joking at all, and what does that even _mean_ \--

“You can’t just--!” She sputtered, throwing her hands out emphatically. “That’s uh, very _Alpha_ of you Derek, and not that I don’t appreciate the sentiment, I do, really, that might not be the _best_ idea you’ve ever had.” He’d stopped growling by this point, but the glare he was sending her was making her squirm uncomfortably, on the edge of flight. “Look, I can take care of myself, okay? Besides, I’ve got Scott and the others to back me up if I ever really need it.”

He opened his mouth to respond but she raised a hand to silence him, and his mouth snapped shut. “Honestly, it’d probably just make matters worse if Derek Hale showed up at school and started beating people up to defend my honour.” She gave him a quirky little smile. “Thank you, though. For you know, caring, and stuff.” She coughed, face burning.

Derek’s face wiped blank, and he turned back to his food. “You’re pack,” he said, as though it really were that simple, then started to eat once more.

Stiles let the tension drain out of her, shoulders slumping forward. They ate in silence, and when they were finished, they stood there in the kitchen, hovering awkwardly. Stiles hated silences, and she wanted to say something, anything, but her mind was drawing blank. She startled slightly when Derek finally moved past her, but if he noticed he made no mention. As he headed out the doorway she started to let out a low sigh of relief, until he stopped abruptly and turned around.

He stared at her for a second, mouth twitching oddly. “Goodnight, Stiles.” He said, voice even.

“Uh, ‘night.” She replied, then did a double take, because _holy shit_ , that’s practically a smile right there. The corner of his mouth was upturned slightly, both eyebrows raised a fraction. She could count on one hand the number of times she’d seen that expression on his face, and none of them were directed at _her_. Does Derek know how damaging that is to his sourwolf reputation? ‘Cause it’s really, _really_ damaging. 

She knows she’s staring like an idiot, but she can’t bring herself to care because _Derek Hale is smiling at her_. It takes her longer than she’s willing to admit to realize that Derek had already left and she was watching an empty doorway.

She grinned, bouncing on the balls of her feet. She’d had a royally shitty day, and she was living with a possibly sociopathic werewolf who wanted to eat her on his good days, but _damn_ if it wasn’t worth it for that little quirk of his mouth. She felt her chest tighten oddly, a rush of something akin to pride shooting through her, and she felt like she could take on the world if only he’d look at her like that again.

She refused to think too hard on what that meant.

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is there so much food happening in this part. I didn’t even realize until I’d finished it. D:
> 
> Constructive criticism is welcome, as it’s been a while since I’ve really sat down and tried to write something. Feedback is always appreciated, and there should be more to this coming very soon. There’s a ways to go yet before the story gets in to the whole whodunnit aspect here, but I’m hoping it’ll be worth the wait. I’m a fan of slow builds. Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to tobrokenstone for the super quick beta job, especially since this took an unreasonable amount of time for me to get out, considering the length.

Stiles hates hospitals. 

She’d learned to dislike them when she was five and had broken her arm falling out of a tree in their backyard. The nurses were kind and gentle, but the smell of antiseptic and the bright lights made her cry harder than she should have all the way through the x-rays. 

It wasn’t until she was nine that she started to really _hate_ them. No matter how many years had passed, every time she went inside and took a breath, she found herself back at her mother’s bedside, small and curled in on herself in a stiff chair, watching the IV steadily drip, drip, drip.

When she was ten and met Scott for the first time, she had been wary of Mrs. McCall because she was a nurse. She tried not to be, because Scott was her friend, and it hurt him that she shied away from his mother every time she came over to his house. It wasn’t so bad most days, but every now and then she’d run into the woman dressed in her scrubs, and she could feel her breath start to come in short gasps. Her mother’s death was still fresh enough that the panic attacks hadn’t subsided.

One day, Mrs. McCall took her aside, sat her down in the living room, and gave her a bowl of ice cream.

“It’s okay to be scared,” she’d said. “I’d like to say that I understand what you’re going through, but I don’t. I’ve never lost someone that meant so much to me before. I’m not going to tell you that it’s not my fault, or anyone’s fault, that your mother got sick, because that’s not going to help you right now. But what I am going to tell you, is that doctors, nurses, and every hospital, see a lot of death.” 

She’d looked at her sadly, and Stiles had never felt so small before, the ice cream in her lap untouched. “But we also see a lot of life. People who work in hospitals are there because they care, because they want to save people. And we do. Not always, sometimes even the best efforts fall short, but a lot of the time we really, truly help people. Next time you go to the hospital or the doctor’s office, I want you to remember that, okay?”

Then Mrs. McCall had gotten up and hugged her, told her to call her Melissa, and left. Scott had walked in and sat across from her in silence as she cried into the ice cream, shoveling it into her face, and in that moment she fiercely loved them both.

She wasn’t afraid of hospitals or their staff anymore, so she had to thank Scott’s mom for that, but she couldn’t stop herself from hating being in them with a vengeance. Her panic attacks were a thing of the past now, but she doubted she’d ever stop being bitter. Some things just stay with you for a lifetime.

The current situation wasn’t helping. She’d lost track of the amount of times she’d been in the hospital the past month, but it had got to the point that no one even bats an eye at her just strolling on through up to her father’s room. The ancient looking nurse that was assigned to her father’s care--Judith--had even taken to calling her disgustingly grandmotherly things like ‘dear’ and ‘sweetie’. She supposed she should be grateful that her cheeks were still blissfully pinch-free, but she was getting seriously sick of the pitying looks sent her way.

She wanted _answers_ , not pity.

 

\----------

 

Once school had ended on Tuesday, Danny had met up with her in the parking lot, and arranged for her to pick him up after lacrosse. With how hectic everything had been, she’d nearly forgotten about him coming over. She’d _definitely_ forgotten to tell Derek, which was probably an eighty-seven on a scale of one to ten of Very Bad Ideas. 

And since today’s practice was short, but not _too_ short, she had about an hour to kill before she needed to be back for Danny. She knew she should probably just head back to Derek’s, but the sourwolf hadn’t had any work today so she would bet good money that he was just sitting in the kitchen, creepily awaiting her return. 

She didn’t much feel like dealing with him right now, or having him yell at her once she told him that Danny would be stopping by. Invading his den, or whatever. School had been an unfortunate rinse and repeat of the day before, and her head was already so messed up from Derek’s weird behavior over the past few days, going back to the Hale house was the last thing she wanted to do.

What she _really_ wanted was her dad, but if that was a possibility then all of this would have been a moot point. She was confused and angry, and didn’t even know _why_ she was angry, and all she wanted was to ramble on at her dad and have him groan theatrically when she made him eat huge amounts of salad.

She missed him so fucking _much_ , and damn it, she _wasn’t an orphan_ , but sometimes it sure felt like it. She rubbed her eyes roughly, trying very hard not to sniffle like an idiot while standing in the middle of the school parking lot. She was better than that. She was a Sheriff’s daughter. 

Well, even if her dad couldn’t hear her, she could still talk to him. At least, she hoped he couldn’t hear her, because there had been times when she’d sat at his bedside and just told him _everything,_ the whole damn story, about Peter and Laura and Kate. About the pack. If that urban legend about coma patients knowing what you’re saying was true, then she would be in serious trouble when her dad woke up.

 _When_ , not ‘if’.

She sighed and climbed into the driver’s seat of the Jeep, staring at her phone for a moment before texting Derek.

**_Going to see dad. Picking Danny up after lacrosse to work on Chem. Behave yourself, no growling allowed. BBL._ **

She shut her phone off before she could receive Derek’s response, not wanting to start a message war with him, despite the weird swirly feeling in her stomach at the thought of Derek texting her. Seriously, what was with that? Was she getting sick? She hoped not, being sick _sucked_ , and that was definitely the last thing she needed right now.

Once she’d reached the hospital, she parked as close as she could and headed inside, nodding at the nurse on duty at the front desk. She bypassed the elevator (those things had never once agreed with her stomach on the concept of gravity) and climbed the stairs to the third floor. The door to her dad’s room was open when she got there, and Judith was puttering around inside, watering the vase of flowers some officers from the station had brought over nearly a week before. They were looking kind of dead, and Stiles wished the old nurse would throw them out. 

She crossed the threshold and was immediately accosted. “Genima, darling, how _are_ you today? Isn’t the weather just lovely out? I do so enjoy October, it’s my favourite month, you know!”

 _I know, you’ve said the same thing every time I’ve come here in the last two weeks_ , Stiles thought, but held her tongue, offering the older woman a slightly strained smile. She’d given up trying to correct her on her name. It was easier to just let her call her what she wanted, and hope no one else could hear it. She was suddenly incredibly grateful no one from her pack was here; if she had her way, they’d never find out her real name. Not even _Scott_ knew.

“How is he?” She said instead, hoping to divert the conversation. 

Judith’s smile didn’t even twitch. “Oh, he’s a dear. Everyone remains hopeful, you know. He’s perfectly stable and healthy, sweetheart, I’m sure he’ll be waking up any day now.”

Stiles had to bite her tongue to stop herself from snapping that no, he wasn’t _healthy_ , he was in a coma for fuck’s sake. She forced herself to smile hard enough to hurt, and moved jerkily to the chair by the bedside. “Do you think I could have some time alone with him?” She said through her teeth.

Judith seemed completely unfazed by her imitation of an android. “Sure thing, sweetie, you just come find me if you need anything, okay?”

Stiles nodded and watched her waddle out, shutting the door behind her. She relaxed into the chair, turning her gaze to her father’s sleeping form. He’d been breathing on his own for a little over two weeks now, so she was thankful she didn’t have to sit and stare at that awful tube that had been stuck down his throat. He was mostly hidden under the hospital blankets, and like this it really did look like he was sleeping naturally. She sighed.

“Hey, dad,” she said quietly. It had taken a little while for her to start talking to him instead of sitting in bitter silence, and even longer for her to stop feeling so awkward about it. “It’s been a crazy last couple of days. Scott got pretty fed up with my ‘woe is me’ act, though I suspect Melissa had a big hand in it. You know how she gets. Uh. So anyways, some stuff happened and, bam! I’m living with Derek Hale now.” 

She paused, swallowed. “You’re probably going to kill us both when you find out about it. But it’s not like we’re, I don’t know, living in sin or something. He’s not my baby’s daddy. Uh. Not that I have a baby at all, ‘cause I don’t. No one is my nonexistent baby’s daddy. That wouldn’t even be possible, what with my virtue still being intact, I promise, no shotgun weddings needed. Not that I think you’d--” She stopped and rubbed a hand over her face. What was she even _saying_?

“I’m just going to move on from that, and forget I ever said anything. I just...Things have been...good. It’s only been a couple of days but I thought he’d try to eat me at least _once_ by now, and he hasn’t, at all. He’s been surprisingly nice. He’s been _worried_ about me, and I don’t know what to do with that at all. I mean, I know I’m part of the pack, I guess, but what even am I? An Omega? Do humans even get ranked like that? That’s totally not a conversation I want to have. I just don’t know if he’s being protective because I’m pack or because...because...”

She grumbled and squeezed her hands tightly in her lap. “I don’t even know! I don’t know what to think or what I _want_ to think and I’m just so confused. He _smiled_ at me last night, dad. And maybe I’m being a little generous, but he definitely did. The last time I saw him make an expression even close to a smile was when Scott chased Jackson up a tree and we had to get a ladder to get him down. I know he’s my Alpha, and I care about him, but I’m not sure I would even call him a friend. But I think I want to. He’s just...He’s different than I thought he was. It’s weird seeing him in private, seeing the way he is when he’s not trying to control a bunch of idiotic teenage werewolves. I haven’t seen a huge amount of him since I moved in, but. I don’t know. He hasn’t been so much ‘Derek the scary Alpha that makes me want to hide behind large objects and locked doors’ as he has more like ‘Derek the lonely puppy’.”

She laughed a bit at that, smiling softly. “Not that I’d ever say as much to him, since I’m pretty sure he _would_ kill me for that.” She leaned over and ran a hand down her father’s arm beneath the blanket. “When you wake up, I’m going to _make_ Derek let me tell you. It’s been almost two years, and I’m just so tired of lying to you. I don’t even want to think about how that conversation is going to go. I mean, I can’t just say ‘So hey dad, werewolves!’, but we’ll think of something.” 

She leaned back, smile fading. “I’m not going to just leave you like this. I know you’d tell me not to get involved, to let the police do their jobs, but you _know_ me dad, and you know I can’t. Besides, the guys at the station don’t have _Derek._ I’m going to find whoever did this, and the pack is going to help me do it, and you will get better. I promise.”

She fell silent, not knowing what else to say, and settled back in the chair, content enough for now to just watch her father’s chest rising and falling with breath until it was time to leave. Talking to her father usually helped her sort out her thoughts, but she still felt just as confused and bewildered as before.

She wondered if that was going to be a constant side effect of living with Derek Hale.

Probably.

 

\----------

 

When she parked the Jeep in front of Derek’s house, Danny turned to her and said, “Stiles, are you lost?”

She glared at him and pulled the keys out of the ignition. “No.”

He raised both eyebrows at her, but grabbed his bag and followed her to the front door. “I only ask because I’m pretty sure this is not your house.”

She snorted, waving a hand flippantly. “Think of it as temporary lodgings.”

She opened the front door and they took off their coats, but before they’d even reached the stairs Derek was suddenly _right there_ , all up in Stiles’ space and glowering like he wanted to claw off her face. At least he wasn’t growling. “ _Stiles_.” He said, and she took a step back at the tone of his voice, glancing over to where Danny was watching them, mouth agape. Derek hadn’t even so much as glanced in his direction. “Do _not_ turn your phone off to avoid me. _Ever_.”

She stared at him, eyes wide. “I just, I didn’t want-”

“Do you understand me.”

“But-”

“ _Do you understand me_.” That was definitely his Alpha voice, and she seriously hoped Danny didn’t pick up on the supernatural undercurrent there. Jesus, why did Derek have to be such a _bitch_ about some things?

She scowled at him. “Yes sir, I hear you, sir.” She said bitterly, then watched in bewilderment as his face suddenly relaxed and his shoulders drooped. He looked _tired_.

“Good,” he said simply, then rubbed his face and walked away.

They stood in silence for a moment before Danny turned to her, and said, “You’re living with _Derek Hale_?”

She startled. “How did you-”

He rolled his eyes at her. “Stiles, I’m not an idiot. It’s been nearly two years since he’s been back, I know he’s not ‘Miguel’. I doubt he’s your cousin either.” He paused, head tilted, and Stiles shifted awkwardly. “Did he knock you up?”

She spluttered, arms windmilling, and blushed vibrantly, knowing that Derek could totally hear this entire conversation. “Wha-wha-what? No! We’re not even, I mean, I don’t, he’s not, it’s not like that! I’m not pregnant! No one is pregnant! Jesus!”

Danny raised an eyebrow and started up the stairs, like the presumptuous _jerk_ he clearly was. “I’m sure somebody _somewhere_ is pregnant, Stiles. There’s a whole other world outside of Beacon Hills.”

God, she really wanted to punch that smirk right off his face. If he wasn’t going to help her not fail the school year, and if he wasn’t freaking _Danny_ , she totally would have. Or tried to, anyways. Knowing her luck, she’d probably slip on the stairs and break her own nose before she even got close. Sometimes, being Stiles really sucked. 

“Alright then, Smarty McSmarmy pants,” she said instead, forcing her way past him and tripping over her feet, stumbling up the last few steps in an awkward flail. 

Danny burst out laughing, catching up and grabbing her arm to hold her steady. “You know, Stiles,” he said, once they were both sure she wasn’t going to fall back down the stairs, an oddly fond smile working across his face, “you’re alright. Despite what Jackson says.”

She stared at him in surprise, before a flash of colour caught her eyes and she shifted slightly, looking over Danny’s shoulder where she could see a shadow in the kitchen doorway, twin circles of red shining out through the darkness. What the hell did Derek think he was _doing_? Hadn’t she told him not to start with any of his funny werewolf business? And besides, what-

Wait a second.

Her gaze snapped back to Danny, brow furrowing. “Wait, what does Jackson say?”

Danny just laughed at her and shook his head. “Come on, Stiles, let’s go learn some chemical compounds,” he said, tugging at her arm, and she obediently led him to her room, scowling all the while.

 

\----------

 

After about two hours, Stiles was pretty damn certain that she really, really hated chemistry. Which she knew already, because _Mr. Harris_. Enough said, in Stiles’ opinion. But still, while Danny is funny and brilliant, the material is _not_. It was either this or physics though, and since the teacher for the senior class is Ms. Lowell, that was never an option, not since that awkward time when she was a freshmen and had accidentally spilled grape juice all over the woman’s very white, very clean dress. Scott had thought it was hilarious; Ms. Lowell had not.

Did _every_ teacher at Beacon Hills High have it out for her? Sure felt like it, sometimes. She wondered if her high school and her elementary school teachers ever got together and discussed the horrors of trying to contain Stiles Stilinski for a full six hours. She grinned at the thought. Oh, the _stories_ they all must have.

“Well,” Danny sighed, jarring her out her thoughts, and she looked down at the papers in front of her. Oh, right, she was supposed to be _working_. “I can safely say you’ll be able to pull about a C, if you’re lucky.”

She beamed at him. “And it’s all thanks to your amazing tutoring skills. I’ll be sure to include you in my acceptance speech.”

He rolled his eyes at her. “That’s not something to be proud of, Stiles.”

“Pssh, says you. You don’t have every teacher thinking ‘oh god, why me’ whenever you walk into their classroom. Besides, what am I even supposed to _do_ with this stuff in the real world? I seriously can not think of a single practical application for knowing the periodic table of elements in my burger-flipping future.” She shrugged, but it was _true_. Unless she was going to pursue a career in the sciences (which, huh, _no_ ), this stuff was pretty much useless to her in the long run. 

Danny’s mouth thinned to a straight line, and he shook his head. “‘Burger-flipping’? Stiles, this is your senior year. Don’t you have any plans?”

She stared at him. There really wasn’t any possible way for her to tell him that, well, most of her plans revolved around staying in Beacon Hills so she could help control the local _werewolf population_. The pack hadn’t discussed it, but she was under the impression that the general consensus was this: packs stay together, no matter what. She didn’t think it was even physically _possible_ for the young wolves to be separated from their Alpha for long enough to go to university. That must just about kill Lydia, she thought, who Stiles had always felt was destined for MIT. Well, there was always distance courses, or the community college about a forty minute drive from Derek’s. No offense to Scott, but she couldn’t really see him at a university anyways.

Maybe she could get in to the forestry business. That’d be a laugh. 

“Uh,” she said, at a loss, “No?”

Danny looked at her like she was stupid, and she tried very hard not to bristle in response. “Fine,” he said, then relaxed, a small smile working it’s way across his face. “I guess there’s still plenty of time left for all that.” He stretched, the joints in his shoulders popping loudly. “That’s about all I’m willing to cover today. If we go for much longer, you’ll probably just fall asleep on my notes.”

“Aw, you know me so well,” she laughed, shuffling the papers together and helping him pack up.

“No,” he said, and she stopped to look at him, confused, “I don’t. Not really. I mean, I always thought you were just, I don’t know, McCall’s annoying tag-a-long. Sorry.”

She scowled at him. “Well, gee, thanks for that.”

He rolled his eyes at her and slung his bag over his shoulder, heading out into the hall. She followed him down the stairs and to the front door, eyes scanning for any sketchily lurking wolves or disturbingly Derek-shaped shadows. She couldn’t see him anywhere around, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t listening. Nosy bastard.

He paused, hand hovering before the doorknob, then turned back to her, expression serious. “Listen, Stiles. Jackson’s my best friend,” he said, and she tensed up, worried about the direction this was headed, “and I used to think I knew everything there was to know about him. I know that isn’t true anymore, and I also know that _you’re_ a part of what ever it is that he’s been keeping from me for the last two years.”

She swallowed thickly, mouth opening to try and do some damage control, but he cut her off. “Let me finish. I know it must be pretty big, for him not to have told me by now. I won’t lie, at first I thought you guys were running some kind of drug ring, or a cult, but I’ve figured out by now that that’s not the case.” He ran a hand through his close cropped hair, sighing. “I don’t know why all of you suddenly became so close, or what it has to do with Derek Hale, and I have to admit that it kind of really sucks that Jackson doesn’t spend as much time with me anymore. But, he’s happy, _really_ happy, like I haven’t seen him be since we were kids. And despite how much he likes to grumble about you, you’re important to him now for some reason.”

He paused, and she jumped in, twitching in sudden nervous fear, “Danny, I like you a lot, and you’re pretty awesome, but you have to understand, _I_ _can’t tell you_. Don’t, don’t ask me, because-”

He shook his head and placed his hand on her shoulder, stilling her. “I wasn’t going to,” he said, and she breathed in a sigh of relief, “I trust Jackson to tell me when the time is right. But for the record, you’re all really weird.”

She grinned at him. “You’re a cool bro, Danny-boy.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t call me that,” he said, and smiled back. “Anyways, the point I was trying to make is that I’d like to get to know you better, and not just for Jackson’s sake.”

“Well, keep coming over and helping me with my school work, and I think we can handle that pretty efficiently.” She said, at a bit of a loss. It was pretty rare that Stiles found herself left speechless, but this was way beyond anything she could have expected to come from their little study session. People didn’t usually _want_ to get to know Stiles, they more got forced into it (and recently through some alarmingly violent circumstances). Except Scott, but he was always a weird kid, which she was never not grateful for.

Danny laughed and drew his hand back, letting it fall comfortably by his side. “I’ll keep helping, but that’s not really what I had in mind. Go to dinner with me on friday.” 

She stared at him, eyes wide. “Uh,” she said, and oh god, this sounded like a _date_ , which was all kinds of levels of _messed up_ , “you do know I don’t actually have a dick, right? I mean, people seem to forget that a lot, but see these boobs, here? They may not be much, but they’re definitely real. I’m not just fat.”

He gave her a look that she decided meant ‘you’re not fat Stiles’ or ‘you are a beacon of femininity’ instead of ‘clearly you are an idiot’. “I am aware,” he said, dryly, “I just thought that Thai food would offer a nice, neutral setting.” He paused, a slow, wicked grin crawling over his face. “How about I trade you embarrassing Jackson stories for some of Derek Hale.”

She bristled automatically, not even knowing why. “He’s not gay,” she said, with more force than was wholly necessary. Just the _thought_ of Derek and Danny together made her seethe, some dark thing curling in her belly and taking root, which was _ridiculous_. It’s not like she _owned_ him, and it shouldn’t matter, it _shouldn’t_. 

“How do you know?” Danny asked, head tilted, and she sucked in a breath. Oh. She _didn’t_ know, did she? She’d never seen him with anyone, male or female. Never heard about him dating. She barely knew anything about what his life was like in New York, and she _definitely_ wasn’t privy to whether he’d been with someone before the whole mess with Peter started. Which was fine, because it was _none of her business_. She had no right to feel like this, and for the life of her couldn’t figure out why she did. It didn’t make any sense. 

Maybe it was because he was her Alpha. She may not be a werewolf, but as part of the pack (which she was starting to feel she truly was, and thought it both awesome and scary at the same time) she still felt connected to him, felt the pull. Maybe not in a supernatural way, but Stiles was a very caring person, so she _cared_. They were a family, for better or worse, and the thought of someone from outside the pack coming in and influencing the Alpha was unsettling and unwelcome. 

Logically, she knew that Derek was a grown man, and that being the Alpha of a pack of werewolves was really only one part of him. He had just as much right to date people as anyone else in the pack did, but she just couldn’t shake the feeling of _wrongness_ at the thought. It’s not that she was jealous. She wasn’t. Uh. Okay, well if she _was_ jealous, it was just because nobody ever looked at _her_ the way she knew people looked at Derek freaking Hale. 

Not that _she_ ever looked at Derek that way, because that would be _weird_ , and-

“Stiles?” Danny said, softly, and she realized she had just had some sort of nonsensical werewolf dating crisis in the foyer. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” she stuttered, drawing in a breath and smiling, perhaps a little shakier than she was comfortable with.

He watched her curiously, then smirked. “Relax,” he said, fucking _knowingly_ , and what the hell did _he_ know that she didn’t? “I don’t have any plans of trying to pick him up. He’s just...an enigma. I mean, he’s been back in town for a long time now, and people _still_ make comments about ‘that mysterious Hale boy’. What can I say, I’m an inquisitive person. So how about it?” He smiled at her, and he looked so _earnest_ , that she felt the tension ease out of her, anxiety leaving her feeling tired and muddled in its wake.

“Yeah, alright. Friday, spicy shit, blackmail on douchebag Whittemore. Sounds good,” she said, grinning, and he rolled his eyes at her in exasperation. 

“Great,” he replied, finally opening the front door and stepping out onto the porch, “Now come on. My mom said supper was at seven-thirty, and I don’t want to eat cold tacos.”

She laughed and grabbed her coat and keys, starting to feel more like her regular self finally. “Taking Danny home now!” She called out to Derek, wherever he was lurking. There wasn’t any reply, but she knew he must have heard her, so without a backward glance she stepped outside and shut the door behind her. 

 

\----------

 

On the way to Danny’s, they talked about scheduling regular Tuesday catch-up sessions, and what subjects Stiles really needed to cover. Danny was not surprised about her less than stellar marks in Economics, but he _was_ surprised at her straight A’s in her history classes. 

She’d shrugged at him and said “My mum was a history buff, I’ve read all of her old books.” He hadn’t asked any more questions about it after that. 

When she pulled up his driveway, he opened the car door and turned to her. “See you tomorrow, Stilinski,” he said, with a smile, “and tell Hale thanks for letting me in his house. You owe me the story as to why you’re living there, by the way.” Then he climbed out and disappeared through his front door, leaving Stiles sitting there and suddenly realizing that, _shit_ , she was probably facing one hell of an argument when she got back to Derek’s.

She debated the merits of going to MacDonald’s or the mall arcade instead of heading back, because she was prone to fits of infantile cowardice when faced with Derek and his _teeth_. She shifted in her seat, hand reaching for the gear shift, and felt the weight of her phone in her pocket, realizing that it was still turned off. She pulled it out and turned it on, and after staring at the screen in her hand blankly for a moment, it started to vibrate like crazy, a bubble popping up telling her that she had _SIX UNREAD MESSAGES._

Jesus, when did she get so popular?

The first three were from Derek, and while they were not particularly pleasant, they were a lot less confrontational than she had been expecting.

**_Who is Danny, and why is this the first I’m hearing of it._ **

Then, about a half hour after that one had been sent, **_You turned your phone off didn’t you. I’m not mad. Don’t be a child._** And from about the time she had picked up Danny, **_Now I’m mad._**

She swallowed thickly and deleted them, not even getting upset at the insult, because who was she kidding, she _had_ acted childishly. And now she was going to have to deal with a pissed off Derek Hale. Great, just great. Her and her dumb ideas. This whole living arrangement thing was going pretty downhill already, but what did she really expect? She tended to screw things up with people on an alarmingly frequent basis, so she had no reason to think things might have gone a little differently in this situation.

And now she was idling her car in the driveway of a kid she barely knew, feeling disgustingly maudlin. Which was _also_ great. She scowled at her own knee caps, and thumbed through the other messages. One was a junk text, which was annoying, and the last two from Scott, which had the potential to be just as annoying.

Luckily, they weren’t.

**_moms working night shift so u should come over and play halo with me_ **

She laughed out loud, grinning hugely with relief at the easy out, loving Scott a ridiculous amount. His next message asked if she was still with Danny, so she texted him back saying that she’d just dropped him off, and was heading to his place now, and if Allison had come over she’d better leave because she seriously didn’t want to walk in on them sucking face. That had already happened a horrific amount, and it was never not scarring. 

Though, to be fair, she’d still prefer that over the one time she’d climbed through his window to find them both topless and rolling around on his bed. Ugh, that image was going to haunt her nightmares _forever_ ,and it had taken a good two weeks before she could look at Allison again without feeling vaguely nauseous. 

She sent a text to Derek too, telling him where she was going. If she didn’t, it would just make matters a hell of a lot worse. She left her phone on this time, but since he hadn’t responded by the time she pulled in to Scott’s yard ten minutes later, she figured he wouldn’t. Just as well, really; she wasn’t going to complain about the lack of angry text messages, and she silently thanked Derek for reigning in his temper. 

“Hey!” Scott called, opening his front door and grinning at her as she walked towards him. “How’d your studying thing go?”

She shrugged, grinning back at him. “Better than I expected, to be honest. Danny doesn’t think I’m _completely_ hopeless, at least.”

He laughed and headed towards the living room, not bothering to properly invite her in. Considering that Melissa liked to joke about having Stiles pay rent and how she had to buy groceries for a family of three, she didn’t really see the necessity of it.

“How is Danny, anyways?” Scott asked, turning on the X-box and passing her a controller. “He smelled really tense during lacrosse today.”

Stiles turned to him and raised her eyebrows. “He _smelled_ tense? That doesn’t even make sense, dude.”

He shrugged. “Whatever, you know what I mean.”

“Actually, no, I don’t. Not a werewolf, remember?” She said, laughing, and he snorted at her as he started up the game. They played in silence for a moment, Stiles trying to figure out how to word what needed to be said, and Scott giving her the time to do so, patient with her like he wasn’t with anyone else, save his mother and Allison. 

“He asked me out to dinner,” she said, deciding to start with the less worrisome yet decidedly weirder part. Scott stared at her, mouth agape, and she took the opportunity to blow up his immobile character with a rocket launcher.

The sound of the blast jarred him, and he turned back to the screen. “Not cool, man,” he griped, and Stiles just laughed wickedly. “He does know that you’re a chick, right?”

She snorted. “Yeah, I said pretty much the same thing. I don’t know, Scott, it’s weird, and I should probably be a lot more worried than I am. He said he wants to ‘get to know me’, that it’s not a date, but like, an info session or something. Who even does that.”

“We’ve known him since we were like, what, eleven? Twelve? And he suddenly wants to be friends with you. Seems kind of suspicious,” he said, and she rolled her eyes at him.

“Amazing skills of deduction there, Scottlock,” Stiles snickered at the glare he shot her, then sobered a bit. She was going to have to broach the subject with the pack soon anyways, and at least if she told Scott she’d be able to practice it in a relatively non-hostile environment. “He’s asking questions about Jackson.”

He immediately paused the game and turned to her, frowning. “What kind of questions?”

“What kind do you think? He said he thought we were a _cult_. He knows there’s something up with all of us, and that it has to do with Derek. I mean, dude, it’s been two years and Danny’s a smart guy. He told me he was going to wait for Jackson to tell him, but he made it pretty clear that he’s been trying to figure it out. And sooner or later, you know he will.”

“Shit,” Scott said, rubbing at his face, “that is seriously not good. You need to tell Derek.”

She scowled. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I will. I’m surprised Danny’s lasted this long without making a fuss. If you’d kept all this werewolf stuff from me, I probably would have locked you in my room and interrogated you after like, three months flat.”

“Not even, you’d have lasted a week.”

“Touche,” she said, and breathed out a laugh. She looked at him fondly, knocked her elbow against his. “Thanks, man. I needed this.”

He reached up and ruffled her hair, which she seriously hated but was willing to let slide just this once. “Don’t worry so much, Stiles. Maybe Derek will let Danny become pack.”

She perked up at the thought. “That would be awesome! It’d certainly make Jackson more bearable. I like this idea, this is a good idea. Derek needs to be made _aware_ of this idea.”

“ _Jackson_ needs to be made aware of this idea,” he said, and ugh, way to be a buzzkill, Scott.

“All in due time, my friend,” she said, and reached over to his controller to un-pause the game. “Now, no more talking about pack problems. Let’s just blow each other up for a while, before I have to go back and face Khan the werewolf.” 

Scott snorted, managing to convey in the simple sound just _what_ exactly he thought about her avoidance issues, but for once did as she asked without complaint. She found a good position and caught his character’s head in her sniper scope, grinning obnoxiously at Scott’s cry of outrage when he died. 

When you’re living Stiles’ life, you have to learn to appreciate the little things.

 

\---------

 

When she got back late that night, Derek slammed her against the front door the second she had shut it, and oh, _hello_ , we’re doing doors now, are we? That’s not very fair to all the perfectly adequate walls that Stiles saw as her head spun in sudden dizziness. 

“ _Shut up_ ,” he hissed, seething, eyes red, and that wasn’t fair at all, she hadn’t even _started_ talking yet, “don’t talk, don’t say anything, just fucking _listen_ for once, Stiles.”

She tried to nod, but the hand he had grasping at the base of her throat, holding her still, was too tight for her to do anything more than a slight jerking twitch. She tried to take a deep breath, but his hand started clenching tighter, and suddenly she couldn’t, her chest stuttering through short sharp gasps, the oxygen rushing too fast to her head and increasing her dizziness tenfold.

Oh, oh god, was this it then? She’d finally pushed too far, left him alone all night for his anger to build and build, and _fuckfuckfuck_ those were _claws_ on her skin, and his face was morphing, wolfing out, the bones shifting and cracking and casting shadows over his features, eyes burning like fire in the dark, and she was going to die, she was going to _die_ , she was still a virgin, she’d never been outside of California, and she was _going to die_ -

“Stiles,” his voice called out, sounding oddly calm and grounding, even through the muddled haze of her mind, “Calm down. I’m not going to hurt you.”

She could barely hear him, her stomach roiling, fear a near tangible thing, and she seriously thought she might be sick all over his front, which would probably not help her stay alive much longer _at all._

 _“Stiles_ ,” he said again, firmer, something deep and commanding in his voice that she felt shoot down through her core, feeling her limbs jerk to attention, “You need to breathe.”

Breathe? How _could_ she, when he was _strangling_ her, and what-

Wait.

She paused, stilled, then breathed in deep and slow, trying very hard not to gasp in air. She blinked, and looked up to where Derek was standing, removed from her and no longer touching. She’d been hyperventilating, which explained why she felt like she might pass out on his bare feet. And from the complete lack of pain in her throat, she was willing to bet he hadn’t actually squeezed it at _all_ , which meant that, well. Huh. She felt herself calm down, walking herself through the exercises her old counsellor had taught her, until the dizziness and fear had passed. She felt her legs go wobbly, and let herself slide down and sit on the floor, knees drawn up to her chest. Her face went hot with embarrassment, eyes feeling suspiciously damp, so she ducked her face into her legs.

“S-sorry,” she choked out, mumbling into her knee caps. “I’m not, I haven’t-” A soft sound of distress made it’s way out of her throat, and _oh god_ , why couldn’t the earth just open up and swallow her _right fucking now_. Why did she have to have her first real panic attack in _years_ in front of _Derek Hale_ , of all people. She was never going to live this down, was never going to be able to look him in the face again.

“Hey,” he said, calm and quiet, and she felt the rush of displaced air as he sat down on the floor in front of her, “It’s okay.” He sounded awkward as hell, and kinder than she’d ever heard him, like he was trying to settle a spooked animal. 

“No,” she said, dismayed at the raspy quality of her voice. If she started sobbing in front of him, she’d never forgive herself. “It’s not. I haven’t had that happen in _years_.”

Derek sighed, the sound tired and foreign, and placed one of his hands on her arm, large and warm and human. She wanted to look up, wanted to see the expression on his face right then, but he didn’t want him to see _hers_. This was a completely different Derek from any she had encountered before, and her arm tingled around the spot of contact, calming her further with every breath she took, until she finally felt steady and under control.

She squeezed her eyes tight to make sure no tears were gearing up to fall, before she slowly raised her head and met his eyes, green and human, shining in the dim light of the foyer. His face was held carefully blank, making it impossible to tell what he was thinking or feeling. She tried hard to set hers the same way, and he slowly removed his hand and sat back on his haunches.

“I’m surprised it took this long, to be honest,” he said, and she blinked at him in surprise. 

“What?” She asked, startled.

He just _looked_ at her, expression unchanging. “I know what a panic attack is, Stiles. Laura had them for months after the fire.”

 _Oh_ , she thought, heart racing for a completely different reason than moments before. 

“You’re still a teenager, and after all the upheaval you’ve been through, it’s remarkable you’ve stayed so calm for this long.” He paused, a frown settling over his face, and Stiles felt herself relax a bit more at the sudden familiarity, though it was a bit sad that she found Derek’s grumpiness _comforting_.

“Yes, well,” she said, trying to gain some control in the situation, “I’m only human.”

His eyebrows furrowed deeper, and he let out a soft growl. “ _Exactly_ ,” he said, suddenly looking frustrated, “I shouldn’t have acted like that. Sometimes I forget that-” He cut himself off, rising abruptly to his feet, making Stiles realize that she was still huddled awkwardly on the floor like a child. She scrambled up, using the doorknob for support.

“Dude, it’s okay,” Stiles said, offering him a slight grin. Things had turned around so fast, and she had no idea what to do with this weirdly uncertain Derek, how to handle him when he looked more pissed at _himself_ than at her. “Between you and Jackson, I’m used to it.”

He snarled at her, eyes flashing red, before his face suddenly _crumpled_ , and a pained noise escaped his throat. She stared at him, astonished. He looked fucking _wounded_ , and what the hell was she supposed to do with that? She didn’t even know Derek _could_ be like this, let alone why. She felt another brief wave of dizziness hit her as she realized that Derek was letting her see him with his guard down, that he trusted her enough to do so. _Her_ , Stiles Stilinski, of all people. The weight of it dragged at her, filling her with warmth and shock and something strange and foreign, tugging at her, urging her to cross the few feet of distance between them and just, just _hug_ him or something, despite how ridiculous the thought of it was. This was _wrong_ ; she wanted his bitchy Alpha face back, that was _safe_.

“You shouldn’t be,” he said, voice a barely restrained growl. “ _Jesus_ , Stiles, you were so _scared_ of me. I could smell your fear, hear your heartbeat. I’m your Alpha; you shouldn’t ever have to be afraid of me. I’m supposed to _protect_ you. I’m not-” He stopped, swallowed, and Stiles heard the unsaid ‘ _Peter_ ’, watched as his face smoothed out, flickering through a sharp, earnest glance in her direction, before he schooled his features back into his usual scowl. She was both relieved and disappointed as he drew his walls back up, taking a step closer to her, yet still drawing further away. “I might get rough with you some times,” he said, as though it pained him to admit it, “but I will never hurt you.”

“Dude, it’s okay, really. I kind of figured the whole rough-handling thing was part in parcel when I got started with this entire werewolf mess,” she said, and he snorted at her.

“Look, Stiles,” he said, shoulders sagging near imperceptibly, “you have to stop being afraid to just _talk_ to me. You can’t just run away instead of dealing with things. If this whole arrangement is going to work, you need to be able to communicate with me. I’m not going to kill you because you want to have a friend over to study. All I ask, is that _you_ ask.” 

“Okay,” she said, nodding slowly, “that is remarkably reasonable.”

Derek rolled his eyes, suddenly straightening up, stiffening the line of his shoulders. “Alright,” he said, firmly, “good talk.” He turned and walked swiftly up the stairs, closing his bedroom door behind him. She heard the soft snick of a lock being slid into place, and startled, flabbergasted at his sudden retreat. 

Werewolves were so _weird_.

She stared at the spot where he had been, hovering awkwardly, and trying to wrap her brain around the fact that there was apparently a lot more to Derek Hale than met the eye. But Stiles was a sheriff’s daughter; as she moved to climb the stairs, she couldn’t help but wonder at all the different things that made the Alpha tick.

She glanced at the closed door to his room and grinned, determined to find out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of Danny, but not much Derek in this chapter, so sorry for that. Next update should have higher sourwolf content, as well as some pack shenanigans. Hopefully I won't get distracted by other projects this time. :\


End file.
